Elmer and Gertie Go to Recycled Percussion

Recycled Percussion

Sparks fly when the guys of Recycled Percussion make strange music together.

“Whaddaya wanna do tonight, Gertie?”

“I dunno, Elmer.”

“I don’t feel good after that all-ya-can-eat joint. My stomach hurts.”

“You shouldn’t have gone back for the pudding. I saw someone sneeze in it.”

“Before I die of VBD [Vegas Buffet Disease], what show do you want to see tonight?”

“How about Recycled Percussion at the Quad?  It might give you a headache, but that will take your mind off your stomach ache.”


“Holy used cookware, Gertie! All these people in the audience banging pots and pans and bowls and buckets with drumsticks. Is this a Strip show or a riot on Rachel Ray? They gave you a pot at the door, too? Why are you wearing it like a helmet?”

“C’mon, Elmer, play ‘Wipe Out’ on my head!”

“What’s that on the screen, Gertie? Sponsored by … Bayer, Excedrin, Aleve and Tylenol. Very cute.”

“Look, Elmer, they’re playing upside-down on a platform coming down from the ceiling. Cool! And look at all those tin cans, garbage pails, aluminum doodads and hubcaps used as cymbals. No wonder they call it junk rock.”


“Jeez, Gertie, does it have to be this loud?”

“They don’t call it Recycled String Quartet, Elmer.”

“Whoa, they’re banging out a beat with a buzz saw on a metal slab. Maybe we should hire these guys instead of a DJ for Elmer Jr.’s bar mitzvah. Now they’re drumming to ‘Eleanor Rigby’ with one of those welding-soldering-drill-y thingamabobs with the sparks shooting everywhere. Duck, Gertie!”

“Don’t be a wuss, Elmer. This is awesome. Would you rather be home, listening to Elmer Jr. practice his flügelhorn? Besides, look at that hunk slapping out solos on his chest and forearms and thighs and stomach and legs and shoes and, um …”

“It’s called his ass, Gertie. We’re in Vegas, you can say it.”

“Look at the flying hands of that guy soloing on the three big tubs on folding chairs. Is he the lost love child of Keith Moon? Now some of the guys are playing while flipping drumsticks at each other. Isn’t that something?”

“They’re dropping some of them, Gertie.”

“You think you can do better? You couldn’t catch a beach ball if your hands were slathered with glue … Elmer.”

“Cheap glue joke, Gertie. Oooh, grab a chocolate chip cookie off one of those trays they’re carrying through the audience. ‘Totally Random Cookie Time,’ they call it. Isn’t that nice?”

“I’d prefer ‘Totally Random Blueberry Danish Time,’ but these are really good.”

“There’s a lot of funny stuff in this show, Gertie. Like just before, when they called people onstage, slapping monkey masks on them and having a dance-off. And when one of the guys talked into different microphones that made him sound like Barry White and Daffy Duck.”

“Yeah, but listen to everyone in the room banging along on their pots and pans. It’s contagious! Like a frat party at Williams-Sonoma.”

“Now we can say we’ve been in the middle of a gang bang, Gertie!”

“You’re a perv, Elmer.”

Got an entertainment tip? Email Steve.Bornfeld@VegasSeven.com.

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